Page 64 of The Wexley Inn
The emphasis on outsiders. Again. The reminder that she would always be exactly that, no matter how hard she worked or how carefully she navigated island politics.
“I’m not selling.” The words came out flat, final.
“Well, then, I wish you the very best navigating the review process.” His tone turned cooler, the pretense of neighborly concern dropping away. “Though I should mention - purely as a courtesy, you understand - these hearings can become quite expensive. Legal representation doesn’t come cheap in these specialized areas like historic preservation law. Expert witnesses to refute community concerns can run tens of thousands of dollars, and the appeals procedures, should the initial review not go in your favor, add additional costs. Not to mention the opportunity costs of a delayed opening.”
He moved toward the door and then paused as if an afterthought had just occurred to him.
“And of course, there’s also the matter of your lender. Banks become really nervous when the community substantially opposes a project. They might even have questions about the property’s ultimate viability or whether the local market will support an operation facing such significant resistance. Your loan terms likely have provisions addressing such contingencies, I would think. You know, performance clauses, timeline requirements, that sort of thing. You might want to review those carefully.”
He was threatening her financing directly now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise, threatening to drag her through bureaucratic hell and financial ruin until she was forced to sell at whatever price he deigned to offer.
Isabella opened the front door, her hand gripping the knob so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Thanks for the warning, Grayson. I’ll be sure to have my attorney review any official complaints the county receives, and I will ensure Thomas documents every single decision we’ve made with such thoroughness that any review process will be very straightforward. Professional representation is so important in these matters.”
He walked to the door, pausing directly in front of her. Up close, she could smell his cologne. Expensive. Offensive.
“You know, Isabella, I’ve been developing property on this island for many years. I’ve seen people like you before - the idealists who think passion and good intentions could overcome economic reality and political complexity - but some battles aren’t worth fighting. Pride is an expensive luxury. Sometimes the smart choice, the actual mature choice, is to recognize when you’re outmatched and accept the generous offer that allows you to move on to projects with fewer, shall we say, complications.”
He walked down the porch steps and then turned back.
“Oh, one more thing, just as friendly advice, of course. You might want to carefully consider how much Thomas’s support is genuinely worth in a situation like this. He’s well-respected, for sure, but his influence has limitations, especially with county-level bureaucracy. His own business reputation could suffer if he’s closely tied to a project that ultimately fails. Loyalty is a admirable trait, but I’d really hate to see him caught in the fallout of your overreach.”
Now, a threat to Thomas. The suggestion that standing by her could damage him. It made something cold settle in Isabella’s chest.
She didn’t respond and just stood there watching as Grayson got into his sleek Mercedes and drove away, leaving her trembling with rage and fear on the porch that she’d given everything to restore.
After he left, she stood there in the entrance hall, her hands shaking. She’d been monumentally, childishly naive to think Grayson would accept defeat. After the review board approved her plans, men like him didn’t give up. They just changed tactics, probed for weaknesses, and waited for opportunities to strike.
She was vulnerable. Dear God, she was so vulnerable. She’d put every penny of her savings into this project. She’d staked her whole professional reputation on making it succeed. She’d allowed herself to put down roots and to make friends, to fall in love with a man and a place and a vision of a future that suddenly felt as fragile as the old window glass Thomas’s crew had carefully preserved.
Her phone felt so heavy in her hand as she pulled it out to call Thomas. She needed to tell him about the threat because she would need his help navigating the island’s politics. She didn’t fully understand them, even now, but Grayson’s parting words echoed in her mind. The suggestion that Thomas’s reputation could be damaged just by being associated with her and the inn?
What if standing by her cost him? What if helping her fight these complaints made him look unprofessional or too personally involved? His business depended on his relationships with property owners across the island. He had a reputation as an honest person who played by the rules and maintained good standing with county officials and review boards.
She couldn’t be the reason his reputation was damaged. She couldn’t drag him into her mess.
But she also couldn’t handle this alone. That admission made it feel like defeat, but it was true. She’d spent her career navigating corporate politics, managing all kinds of bureaucratic hierarchies, and leveraging institutional power to get things done, but this was different. This was a small island where thirty years of accumulated relationships mattered more than any corporate organizational chart.
This was Thomas’s territory, not hers. She needed him.
She hit his contact, her hands still trembling.
CHAPTER 16
“Anonymous complaints.”
Thomas’s voice came through the phone, but she could hear anger simmering underneath his calm exterior.
“Tell me exactly what he said, Isabella. Every word you can remember.”
She was back at her cottage now, unable to stay at the inn after Grayson left. The space had felt violated, contaminated by his presence and his threats. She’d sent the kitchen crew home early, locked up, and driven to her rental with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking on the steering wheel.
Now she paced the small living room, too upset to sit, and recounted the conversation in detail.
Thomas listened without interrupting. She imagined him taking notes in that methodical way he approached every problem.
“Three to four months,” she finished, her voice breaking slightly. “That pushes us past the holidays, past the opening date, past everything. The loan terms, Thomas. There are milestone requirements tied to that timeline. Performance clauses. If we can’t open by December 31st, the bank can call the entire loan or increase the rates to the point where the project becomes unviable financially. I would lose everything.”
Silence on the other end. She could hear him breathing, could imagine his jaw tight.
